


Gifts

by asmyami



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Gen, Gift Giving, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 14:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asmyami/pseuds/asmyami
Summary: What do you get for the man you owe your life to? What if that person is an android? That's the question that haunts Officer Michael Wilson, who desperately wants to show his appreciation for a certain prototype android who made sure he would live to see another day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. Remember that guy you could save on the rooftop with Daniel? Who then thanks you later? Officer M. Wilson. I decided on the name Michael, but use it sparingly for this story. 
> 
> This can 100% be read as pre-slash haha. Hope it's not too silly for you guys.
> 
> Hank is absolutely a troll dad.

Officer Michael Wilson thought he was pretty good at reading people. Perhaps that came with the territory of being a police officer. A few years on the beat and he was pretty good at telling when shit was going to hit the fan, or when giving a bit meant getting a lot. 

 

It had never occurred to him that androids were a completely different story. Never before had he tried to read into an androids’ thoughts-- why would he? Usually they were being told how to think, and what to think about. Nobody tried to analyze the mentality of their cell phones. Same with androids. 

 

This was probably why he was in this situation. Hunching over the desk to make himself appear smaller, in the busiest time of the day when everyone was working and hoping nobody would give him a second thought, whispering at the damn receptionist android like he was trying to sell it drugs.

 

“Good afternoon, Officer Wilson. How may I be of service?” While the tone was at the calculated best volume to be heard, it still felt like she had shouted it in his face. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his thumb over his left shoulder.

 

“H-Hey… Uh... “ The android smiled, emulating the distant warmth of customer service perfectly. Wilson floundered, attempting to formulate his question without sounding like a complete idiot. “Uh.. listen… what do… androids like?”

 

A small crease grew between the androids brows. The LED ring on her face flashed yellow a few times before suddenly it eased back into blue, and her youthful face smoothed out once more.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite understand the question. Did you mean what androids are like? Or what androids are best suited for what people? If you desire, I can look up a brief survey to find the android that best matches your lifesty--”

 

“No, no no, that’s not--” Wilson groaned, running a hand over his face. “I mean, like… What do you enjoy?” Again, the confusion, this time not so easily dismissed.

 

“I’m sorry. I am not programmed to enjoy anything.” 

 

“Well-- maybe-- Do you eat food?” Now the confusion was morphing into something he could only describe as mild disapproval, a face Wilson had never before seen on any android.

 

“Officer Wilson, your line of questioning is in violation with the workplace code of interrelations between coworkers. It is my recommendation that you report to your superior for fraternizing in the--” 

 

“Okay, okay! Forget I asked!” Wilson’s face felt flushed. He pushed away from the front desk, quickly stomping through the security doors in a flurry of embarrassment and steadfastly ignoring the cheerful, “Have a good day!” that followed him through. God, what a mess.

 

\--

 

“Hey Torres.”

 

“Yo.”

 

They stood side by side in the locker room, getting ready for a long day. Tensions were rising, making folks twitchy. It was up to them to keep up the appearance of calm and control. That’s what they were there for.

 

Right now, however, Wilson had an entirely different mission in mind. 

 

“You got an android right? At home?” Torres eyed him, and shrugged.

 

“Yeah, why? Its not goin’ violent on me if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

“Nah, nothing like that. I was wondering, do you have to get anything? To take care of it?”

 

Torres frowned, staring at him. “What do you mean?” 

 

“Like… anything extra? That it didn’t come with?”

 

A light seemed to shine in Torres’ eyes.

 

“Oooh…” Torres nodded, and Wilson gave an uncertain smile and nodded with. He felt a bud of hope begin to bloom in his chest. Torres glanced quickly around the locker room, but the only other occupants were either in the showers or heading out the door. Still, he beckoned Wilson closer. “Listen, those cheap housekeepin’ models? They don’t come with any of that extra shit you know?”

 

Wilson hadn’t, but he listened intently.

 

“So you gotta buy them the extra parts. They can get a little pricey, but ooh man. So worth it.” There was something… lewd in Torres’ expression that made Wilson’s skin crawl. 

 

“Wait, what..?”

 

“Installation is a breeze too! You just get it sitting and-- pop! Plugs right in!”

 

Wilson finally paid attention to the other man’s hands, pantomiming inserting something into the invisible android. Something at waist height.

 

“And CyberLife is so discrete, you know? Been two months and my wife has no idea--”

 

“Okay! Uh… Well… Thanks, Torres. I’m gonna just--”

 

“Any time man! Let me know how it goes!”

 

Fuck no, Wilson thought as he ran out of the locker room. He didn’t look Torres in the eyes for the next two weeks. 

 

\--

 

This was the worst idea he’d ever had. Hands down, the worst. 

 

Still, he had a game plan. Before him sat his objective. Wilson squared his shoulders, and took a few steps towards the other man.

 

“Evenin’ Lieutenant.” 

 

Lt. Hank Anderson glanced up in surprise at Wilson. He squinted up at him a second.

 

“Yes. What can I do for you…”

 

“Officer Wilson, sir. Michael Wilson?” Hank blinked a few times, before realization came into his eyes.

 

“Wilson! Yeah, I remember you. You’re the one that Connor saved, that right?”

 

Wilson felt a spike of anxiety. Did he suspect..?

 

But no, the man seemed wary yes, but not suspicious, and definitely friendlier now that he’d placed the face.

 

“Yes, sir. We met again at Stratford Tower. Your android saved our lives again that day.” Hank’s eye seemed to twitch at the mention of Connor, but he only nodded.

 

“That’s right. So, what can I do for you, Mike?”

Wilson grinned. “Well, I was wondering if you wanted to hit the bar tonight? I don’t have anything else going on, but I don’t want to go drinking alone.” The hook was out.

 

Hank gazed at him thoughtfully. They hadn’t ever really interacted before, they were barely acquaintances, let alone drinking buddies. Wilson saw rejection in his eyes, but he was ready. He’d done his homework.

 

“There’s a local bar I like, maybe you’ve heard of it? Jimmy’s? It's not too far from here and pretty close to where I live.” Throwing out the line. 

 

Hank seemed to consider it, teetering between declining and accepting. Finally, he relented. 

 

“Well, alright. I could use a good drink.” He could always use a good drink and everyone knew it, but Wilson didn’t say anything about that. 

 

“Perfect! I’ll be by after the shift.” They exchanged pleasantries, and Wilson left. Time to figure out how to get the Lieutenant to talk.

 

\--

 

The bar was… a bit of a dump. Wilson had lied a bit about knowing it. Sure he had passed it once or twice, but never actually been in it. It was cramped and reeked of booze and sad, unclean men. The barkeep wasn’t Jimmy tonight. It was some new girl who waved at them as they walked in.

 

Rather than take a seat at the bar, Hank walked them over to a booth, sitting down. Wilson followed suit.

 

“Just a beer for me, bottle is fine.”

 

“Uh, same for me, please.”

 

The barkeep nodded and turned away. Wilson glanced at Hank, only to feel a brief shock at the speculative gaze that was being levelled his way. 

 

“Just a beer? Sure you don’t need anything stronger? You seem a bit… nervous.”

 

“Oh, hah... “ Wilson chuckled, stalling as he came up with an answer. “No, no, just… busy day. Lots of, uh… androids. Around.” Hank nodded, face becoming somewhat somber.

 

“Yeah, there are. Any in particular causing you problems?” Wilson was saved from answering right away when the barkeep brought their beers, placing them on the table between the two men. Wilson smiled his thanks while Hank tipped the bottle towards there, then took a long swig. 

 

“Ah, that’s good. Nothing like a beer between friends after work, am I right?” 

 

Wilson almost sighed in relief at the sudden change in topic, but quickly brought his own beer to his lips, nodding and making a vaguely positive ‘hum’ noise. Hank took another long drink from his beer before setting the bottle soundly on the table, smiling at Wilson.

 

“So. You want to tell me why you actually brought me out here?”

 

“Wh-what? I just… wanted to have a beer… with a frie--” Hank’s eyebrow raised. “--ndly coworker. Is all.” 

 

Hank sighed. 

 

“I know that’s not all. I know that you switched shifts with DeMarco today. Normally you’re on second, am I right?”

 

Shit. 

 

“And I also know you’ve been acting cagey all week. Did you know that part of my weekly report on android behavior included one fraternization alert from one of the front desk androids?”

 

The blood drained from Wilson’s face, and he had to put his head in his hand.

 

“That was not what-- that’s a complete misunderstanding, sir, I--” Wilson was interrupted by a sudden bark of laughter. His head snapped up as Hank slapped the table in amusement. “What..?”

 

“I’m just messing with you Wilson. There wasn’t any report. You’re just real shit at checking if anyone can hear every word you’re saying when you’re trying to be sneaky.” 

 

Feeling humiliated, Wilson quickly drank the rest of his beer. Hank took the opportunity to order them two more, placing the new bottle squarely in front of the younger officer.

 

“Come on, you went through all the trouble to get me out here. Tell me what this is really about.” 

 

Wilson ran his thumbs through the condensation on his beer, drawing little shapes in it. A circle on the neck. A triangle through the logo.

 

“It’s about… an android.”

 

Hank frowned, the mirth dissipating. 

 

“A… type of android? Or a specific one?”

 

“A specific one. I… wanted to learn more about it, but it’s been impossible to find anything.”

 

“And… you came to me because it involves my investigation?” Hank seemed confused. Clearly the pieces weren’t lining up.

 

“Well yes-- no… Sort of?”

 

“It… ‘sort of’ involves deviant androids?”

 

“No! Not in the way you’re thinking of it.”

 

Understanding dawned in Hank’s eye, but before he could say anything else, Wilson placed both hands firmly on the table, leaning in close and keeping his voice low.

 

“I want to get a gift for--”

 

His bravado failed. This was ridiculous. Nobody got gifts for androids. Nobody. And yet, there it was.

 

Hank was staring at him, and Wilson both hoped and feared he would understand the unspoken name. 

 

He did.

 

“Ah… You know he’s an android, right?”

 

Wilson was so caught up in his own mind, the use of proper pronouns went completely over his head.

 

“I know, but… But he saved my life twice. You just-- you just don’t forget something like that! And… and when I thanked him he…”

 

He had smiled. It was a small thing, but it was absolutely there. A twitch of the lips, his eyes narrowing in happiness--

 

A real smile. 

 

There was a soft huff of laughter from across the table. 

 

“Yeah. He got me like that too.” 

 

Wilson gave him a confused glance, but Hank didn’t elaborate.

 

“So, you want to get him a gift. I’m going to be honest, I have no idea what you get for an android.” 

 

Wilson’s shoulders fell.

 

“Tell you what. Why don’t you come along with us for a few investigations?”

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah, it’ll give you some time to get to know him a bit better, and we’ll get our own officer to help us chase down deviants.” 

 

Wilson pushed the empty beer bottle away, and pulled the new one to him. He stared through the glass, seeing the light hit the brown table below, and thought of Connor’s eyes.

 

“Yeah, ok.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few misses and a hit, Officer Wilson is on the scene and he is doing his best not to embarrass himself in front of someone he really wants to get to know better.

The inclusion of an officer to their team surprised Connor somewhat, but not too much. Having Officer Wilson’s presence and expertise helped in a lot of ways, but apart from that nothing really changed.

It was a few weeks later that the first box appeared on his desk. Connor had stared at it in confusion, and looked up to see Hank watching him intently.

“Lieutenant, what’s this?”

“How the hell would I know? Open it.”

Connor frowned at him, but Hank’s attention would not be deterred. Slowly, Connor lifted the lid. Inside was a package of wet wipes. A sticky note inside the box fluttered to his desk. It read, “For the blood.”

The whole desk began to shake. Connor glanced up to realize Hank’s head was in his arms on the desk, his whole body shaking with badly concealed laughter.

\--

A week later, the package of wet wipes had been about half-used with all the crime scenes they had been analyzing, and there was another box on his desk. Connor glanced at it, feeling a bit less surprised and more surprised all at once. He heard Hank sigh.  
  
“Damn. Not a bottle of bleach then?”

“What was that Lieutenant?”

“Nothing! Nothing.” Hank pretended to busy himself, slipping the headphones on his head and starting on a report, which in and of itself was highly suspect.

Connor, his face carefully blank, picked up the box and opened it, ignoring the way Hank was leaning far enough over his desk he couldn’t comfortably reach his keyboard anymore.

A pair of brand new black gloves were packaged snugly in the box. They were well-made, resistant to water and heat damage. Connor picked them up, sliding the new material between his fingers for a moment, before slipping them on. They fit perfectly. Connor fanned his fingers, then clenched them into a fist.

When he looked at Hank, then older man’s expression was somber, and thoughtful.

\--

The gloves kept Connor’s hands clean when working at the crime scenes. In turn, Connor made sure to keep the gloves in good condition, sterilizing them properly and storing them safely in his desk when not using them. Hank was ready to go home for the day, which meant Connor was done too. It had been an unusually long one, dragging their hours late into the night.

It was for this reason Connor spotted Wilson, hovering over his desk, caught in the act of leaving a small box in front of Connor’s monitor.

Wilson froze, eyes wide in surprise. Connor’s gaze flitted between Wilson’s face, and the box in his hands. The LED on his head blinked a few times as he processed what he was seeing, before he dropped his shoulders and strode up to the stunned officer.

“Good evening, Officer Wilson. Leaving me another item?”

“Uh… yeah… I didn’t really expect to, er, see anyone? Isn’t this a bit late for you?” Connor shrugged.

“It took us longer to wrap up that crime scene than we thought.”

“Right… listen, Connor. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable… I just thought…” Wilson shrugged, but Connor only stared, patiently waiting for him to finish. In slight despair, it occurred to Wilson that an android had never interrupted him before, something he never thought he’d wish they’d do. “I just wanted to get you something. To show my appreciation for what you did for me.”

“What I did for you? You mean saving your life in the confrontation with Daniel?”

“Yes, and for saving us all at Stratford Tower. You’ve saved my life twice now.”

A flutter of something rose in Connor’s chest. He quirked a small smile, his eyes darting down for the briefest of moments, and in that moment he missed the awestruck gaze sent his way.

Wilson fiddled with the box, at a loss for what to say next, before he remembered suddenly that it was in his hands.

“Oh, uh… This is for you.”

“Another gift?” Connor’s eyes belied his amusement, and Wilson swallowed, shrugging to hide his nerves.

“Last one. I struggled a bit to figure out what to get you as a way of saying thanks, but… I hope you appreciate this one.”

Connor seemed to consider the box before opening it. He paused, staring at the simple object inside.

“An access card?”

The LED on his head flashed yellow as he analyzed it. Connor’s eyebrows raised, eyes pulling from the gift to Wilson.

“For the armory? Officer, you know androids are not permitted to carry weapons.”

Wilson flushed, nodding. “Yeah, of course, I know that. But that’s not all that’s in the armory. We keep the riot gear in there as well, and our usual protective gear.” Connor’s face had lost the incredulity at possibly being offered a weapon, though he still didn’t seem to understand what Wilson was getting at. “I had a talk with requisitions, and the Captain. Told them how important you were to the investigation, and how you’re put in danger with the rest of us. You’ve gotten hurt twice now saving human lives-- probably more than that, right?”

Connor nodded slowly. The gift weighed a bit more heavily in his hands, now that he understood the trouble WIlson had gone through to obtain it.

“But… I’m a machine.” The LED flashes again, blinking yellow. “I don’t feel pain. I can’t truly die.”

Wilson shifted uneasily at the change in the conversation tone.

“You’re one of us too. All of us have to stay safe so we can protect Detroit. Why should that exclude you?” There was something in the way Wilson wouldn’t quite meet Connor’s eyes, how his face was flushed, that made Connor think there was more to it.

Movement caught his eye. Connor chanced a gaze behind Wilson and saw Hank standing there. He had a strange expression on his face, something warm, perhaps even fond. How long had he been standing there?

Hank realized he’d been caught, but he only grinned and mouthed the words ‘THANK YOU’, pantomiming holding a small object in his hands, and then shaking the hand of an invisible person.

Connor blinked and immediately jerked his head down to look at Wilson, but the officer seemed to be in the middle of figuring out the best way to exit the situation and hadn’t noticed the lapse in attention. Quickly Connor held out his hand, and when Wilson looked at him, he gave him a warm smile.

“Thank you. While I don’t get injured as humans do, I do appreciate any help in keeping this body in working condition.”

Wilson blinked at him slowly, subconsciously giving him a quick once over. “Er, yeah, your body, working--” He quickly took Connor’s hand and shook it. “You’re welcome! Well I’m going to go on patrol now-- I look forward to seeing you again-- in the field. I mean. Out there.”

Wilson took a large step back, and quickly, quietly, beat a hasty retreat.

Connor noticed, with some relief, that the officer had at least left so fast that he’d completely missed the sight of Hank bent over his desk, smothering his laughter in his arms. Ignoring him for the moment, Connor picked up the access card. With some surprise, he realized that the card had been made especially for him. His own face stared up at him from the plastic square.

‘Connor, RK800, DPD Investigator’

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for coming! I didn't really reread this because it was such a struggle to get out, so let me know if you hit any typos or something. I'm sure i'll find them eventually but... *shrug*


End file.
